Brilliant
by fennecfawkes
Summary: Neville/Harry. Nine years is a long time for feelings to go unnoticed. Maybe he'll get around to it someday. This story rejects the epilogue and substitutes its own. Also, I did not, in fact, invent Harry Potter and his compatriots.
1. Believe Me, I Think About It

It started when I was 15.

We were in the Room of Requirement, D.A. business as usual, and he'd partnered with me as we practiced Patronus charms. Naturally, he didn't need to practice. He'd had it down for years. But I was new to it. Since I'd happened upon a new kind of confidence at that point, I was able to produce a silvery wisp or two by the end of our first Patronus-based lesson. When Harry looked genuinely impressed and patted me on the shoulder, saying, "Brilliant, Nev," I experienced this warm and entirely unfamiliar feeling. I'd thought girls were pretty before, sure, but I'd never wanted to launch myself at them the way I did Harry at that moment. And pathetic as it is, the feeling never ended. It's plenty familiar now and increases whenever we cross paths—substantially more often now that he's gone from Auror to Defence professor at Hogwarts. Granted, I don't take many meals in the Great Hall, spending daylight hours in the greenhouses and evenings in my quarters with my lesson plans and Neil Gaiman novels. But when I do, he's always there, magnetic and appealing as ever, maybe even more so. The past decade has been kind to him. All that fieldwork as an Auror toned his muscles, and he doesn't seem so uncomfortable with that endearingly unruly mop of hair now. It's the thing that keeps him young, even as he's entered his mid-twenties. Like me. I'm there, too. And sometimes I think he's noticed.

It's the little things he does—a hand on my arm when he says hello, a kind word about how well his students seem to understand how herbological studies tie in to defending against the dark arts, even a laugh at a terribly unfunny joke I've come up with—that make me think, hey, maybe he's finally got it. Maybe all it would take would be me saying something for once in my life. And believe me, I think about it. I think about it every night when the other side of the bed stays cold and the only creature comfort I have comes from the cat at my feet. (Her name is Gilly.) I think about how badly he needs someone to tuck his hair behind his ears and kiss his brow when he gets frustrated with uninterested students and rub his shoulders when he plays Quidditch a bit too hard for someone his age. And I suppose that someone could be me. I just wish he'd suppose it, too.


	2. Then I Got Bored

Sometimes I wonder why I didn't just become a professor in the first place. Don't get me wrong, being an Auror was brilliant. It was never frightening—just a consistent rush of activity and heroism that for once wasn't put on display for the whole of the wizarding world to see. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm a bit of a paradox; I like playing the hero but I hate being noticed for it. As an Auror, I finally found the ideal combination, and it felt fantastic.

Then I got bored.

There's more paperwork than you'd think, more pencil pushing and inter-office memos and meetings, oh, Merlin, meetings. Do you want to know how many pockmarks Kingsley Shacklebolt has on his face? 19. The answer is 19. I know, because I counted them. That's how mind-numbingly dull the meetings became. Sure, it was nice to go on assignment with Ron, but we weren't always partnered. Sometimes I had to deal with Pansy Parkinson's constant complaints or Zacharias Smith's unending bragging. And on the very worse days, I got stuck with my ex-girlfriend. I love Ginny. I really do. But working with her was a nightmare. Our wills are so strong that we nearly killed each other on our first assignment rather than apprehending the illegal potions smuggler we were supposed to take out. It was around that time I began considering breaking up with her.

Not that those thoughts hadn't been on my mind for years. I was at least 50% gay. I knew that. Ginny did, too, but she didn't seem to care, so long as I promised that if anything ever happened she could watch. I never honored that request—too stupidly loyal, I guess. Anyway, we broke things off two years out of Hogwarts, and she's with Dean Thomas again, and I don't think I could be happier for her.

_Anyway_, being the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts is everything I wanted out of my adult life and more. As soon as the students begin viewing me as Harry Potter the professor rather than Harry Potter the hero, they seem to take to the subject—at least, for the most part, they do. And those that don't become captivated eventually. There are just too many mysteries and nuances and complicated wandwork to resist. I think even Remus might be proud of what I find myself able to do. And that's quite a lot more than I anticipated, really. Also, there's no paperwork, and staff meetings consist of a brief battery of announcements from Minerva, followed by a lengthy trading of anecdotes about particularly quirky students or lessons gone awry. It's been great getting to know Neville again, and he's really in his element at those meetings. He's a great storyteller, which I guess I hadn't expected. Yet because of him, I consistently come away from the meetings with a tale or two to share with Ron and Hermione. I still see them at least once a week, even with their little monsters bumbling around the house.

Actually...


	3. Maybe Something Is Going On

"Hey, Nev."

I look over my shoulder. Harry's rushing up behind me, a wide grin on his face. He's not wearing his robes, and his sleeves are pushed up, revealing a battery of angry red marks.

"Harry, what happened to your arms?" I ask, slowing down to get a closer look. "These are from a grindylow, aren't they?"

He nodded. "How could you tell?"

"Never mind that. I've got something for that. Come to the greenhouses." I flag down a student, who rushes over. "Zach, can you go to Professor Dutton's office and tell him I won't be coming to tea? I need to fix Professor Potter."

Zach nods, smiles, and rushes away, seemingly thrilled to have a job to do. Harry looks at me oddly before falling into step next to me. "You and Professor Dutton have tea?"

"Sometimes," I say. "He's a good friend." I try to emphasize the word 'friend.' Harry seems to get the idea.

"You spend too much time there, you know. The greenhouses."

I laugh. "They're where I work."

"Yes, but classes are over for the day."

"Yes, but if I didn't keep working after classes, then I wouldn't be able to heal those marks."

"Fair point. If you can."

"That a challenge?" I ask, trying to keep any trace of flirtation out of my voice and, I'm sure, failing miserably.

"'Fraid it is," says Harry. I look at him sidelong and he's smiling. I smile, too, feeling quite a bit like a 15-year-old.

"Well, challenge accepted," I say, swinging open the door to the main greenhouse. "I know it's usually used to cure acne, but bubotuber pus works well on minor welts like yours. What were you doing with grindylows, anyway?"

"A practical lesson with third years. Lupin showed them to us in our third year, remember?"

"I thought that was redcaps and hinkypunks."

"Might have been. He had a grindylow in his office, though." Harry wrinkles his nose when I approach him with a cloth covered in bubotuber pus. "Do I really have to have that on me?"

"If you want the marks to go away instead of lingering for weeks, then yes, you do."

Harry sighs and outstretches his arms. I dab at the individual welts and ask, "What exactly did you do to them to get these?"

"Oh, they were cranky they hadn't been fed in a few hours," he says brightly. "Luckily, the kids had left when they came at me. Would've been pretty embarrassing otherwise."

"I hope you fed them. And I hope you'll feed them more."

"I will. Otherwise my arms will continue to smell like this."

I laugh and shake my head. "Doesn't have to be that way. Healing's not really my thing, but perfumes I'm OK with." I search through the back stores till I find a small vial filled with aquamarine liquid. "I call this _rectalau_. It's kind of a neutralizer." I dab a bit of the _rectalau _on my fingers and spread it across Harry's arms, acutely aware of the feel of his warm skin under my predictably clumsy touch. At least, it feels that way to me.

"You're really good at this, Nev," Harry says, admiration in his voice. "They're already healing up. You were never ace at Potions, were you?"

"Could've been, I think, if it wasn't Snape teaching me," I say, putting away the _rectalau_ and the pus.

"Well, thanks. Really. I was going to ask you anyway, but now I may as well act like this is my way of repaying you." Harry shifts his weight from one foot to the other, almost as though he's nervous. "I'm having dinner with Ron and Hermione tomorrow night at their house. Would you like to join us?"

"That sounds brilliant," I hear myself say without thinking. "I usually work on lesson plans on Thursday nights, but I suppose that can wait."

"It always can," says Harry, grinning. "Honestly, Nev, what do you fill your time with? I never see you at night, and hardly ever on the weekends."

"Not much, really." I step toward the door and Harry walks beside me back toward the castle. "Tea with other professors every now and then, though that's not common. And I work out here a lot during the day. At night it's mostly just planning for class and reading. Not about plants," I say hurriedly, and Harry laughs. "I read a lot of novels, actually. Muggle novels. Is that weird?"

"No, not at all," says Harry, his eyes lighting up. "Who do you read?"

"Neil Gaiman, mostly. I think I've read _Stardust _about a hundred times."

"I've only read _Good Omens _of his. And that was just because it was co-written with Terry Pratchett. So, should I give Gaiman a try?"

"Absolutely. I'll lend you some of his stuff. You like reading, then?"

Harry laughs. "You sound surprised. You figured I was just off fighting unspeakably evil things or on a broomstick all the time?"

"Not at all, I didn't mean that," I say apologetically. "I just didn't—"

"I'm teasing, Nev," says Harry. "I know it probably doesn't seem like me, sitting, doing nothing but concentrating on words on a page. But I do it sometimes. And it's nice. And I'd love to borrow some of your books."

"Anytime," I say.

"Great. I'll come back to your quarters after dinner tomorrow. In case I don't see you again, that's at 7. You can get there by Floo. Unless you want to join me. I'm flying."

"Disillusionment Charm?"

"Good guess," says Harry, smiling. "You want to come with me, then?"

"I'm a terrible flyer. You know that."

"Bet you're not anymore, now that you dredged up some self-confidence from somewhere or another." Harry's smile turns wry.

"That's fair, I suppose. I do have a broom here, just a Firebolt Mach 3 someone sent me a few years ago. Did you get gifts after the war, too?"

"Yeah, I did. The Mach 3's a good broom," says Harry. "Sturdy but still light enough that it keeps you moving. I've got a Legion 360 myself now, and, oh, I'm sure you don't care at all."

I laugh. "No, go on."

Harry regales me with tales about the broom till we reach the Great Hall. "Dinner, then?" he asks after finishing his story about a particularly vicious round of two a side with some Weasley siblings. He sounds hopeful, and I hate to shake my head.

"If I'm not working on my lessons tomorrow, then I'll just have Teely get me something from the kitchens. My favorite house elf," I explain. "She insisted on coming to work here after Gran died." My grandmother died three years ago.

"Oh. I was sorry to hear about that."

"It's fine," I say. "She was happy and peaceful and just a bit too old. Very much too old, she said."

Harry smiled. "So, no dinner."

"No. Sorry."

"It's fine. If I see Teely, I'll let her know she's needed."

"Harry, all house elves look exactly the same."

He looks sheepish as he says, "I spend time in the kitchens every now and then. I know the differences."

"Ah, well, in that case, sure. Say hi for me." I smile, feeling a bit giddy, and head up four flights of stairs and to the left. Harry's always been friendly. But he's never been this friendly. And I can't help wondering if maybe something is going on.


	4. Any Ulterior Motives At Work There?

Neville's not as bad a flyer as he makes himself out to be. Granted, I'm better, and my broom's newer and higher quality, but I stay close to where I think he might be as we make our way to Ron and Hermione's house just outside Hogsmeade. It's perfect flying weather, crisp and unseasonably warm for a late September night.

"Gorgeous outside, isn't it?" Neville shouts to me.

"I love it," I say. "We turn right up here."

Within a minute or two, we touch down on the front lawn. I erase the charm and look at him expectantly. "Not so bad, is it, flying?" I ask.

Neville smiles. I attempt to ignore the odd jumpy feeling in my stomach. "It's a rush, yeah. I haven't been in years."

"You never forget how, though. Actually, maybe you just learned for the first time. Looks a lot better than you did when we were 11." He cuffs me on the shoulder as we make our way up the front walk. Hermione launches herself through the already open door at Neville, who staggers under her weight. She's pregnant with her and Ron's third child.

"Neville, it's been ages!"

He laughs. "You do know you came to me for help identifying some flowers three weeks ago, right?"

Hermione blushes and moves to give me a hug. "Well, it always feels like longer. You should be coming here every week, Neville. I can't believe we didn't think to ask you sooner. Will you?"

"Depends. How good is your cooking?"

"Brilliant," says Ron, stepping onto the porch and slinging an arm around Neville's neck. "Loads better than when we got married."

"You don't have to say that, Ron," Hermione says, sounding pleased with herself. "Come in. The kids will be excited to see you. Both of you."

Sure enough, I'm all but attacked as Rose and Hugo catch sight of me. Rose is two and still calls me "Hey," but Hugo, who just turned six, is bright enough to have "Uncle Harry" down pat. After hugging my legs tightly, he looks up at Neville.

"Hi, Neville. Where have you been?"

Neville laughs. "At Hogwarts, mostly. They keep me busy, with classes and all."

"I'm going to go to Hogwarts soon," Hugo says proudly. "In five years. Four, if Mum lets me."

Hermione rolls her eyes at me over Hugo's head. "Now that Uncle Harry is at Hogwarts, too, Hugo's more excited than ever. Five years, sweetie. I want you here as long as you'll stay."

Rose, an unusually quiet toddler, looks up at Neville. "Who?" she asks.

Neville kneels down in front of her and puts out his hand. "I'm Neville. I'm friends with your mum and dad."

"And me," says Hugo.

"And Hugo."

Rose looks at Neville's hand before stepping forward and hugging him tightly. I know from experience that there's more strength in the girl than one might expect and laugh as Neville nearly topples over.

"I like you," Rose says.

"Thanks, Rose. I like you, too." Neville looks up at me and grins, and there's that strange feeling again. I do what I can to not think about it and offer to help Hermione set the table.

"It's all ready except for the butter. That's in the pantry." She practically pushes me into it and comes in behind me, shutting the door.

"Don't you think Ron'll get suspicious?" I joke.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Please. There's American football on the telly, and you know how fascinated he is by that. It'll be hard to drag him away at dinner. Anyway," she presses on, "is there any particular reason we're being graced with Neville's presence tonight? Any ulterior motives at work there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, looking down.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry," Hermione says with a sigh, though she's smiling. "He is rather fit now, isn't he? And so good with the kids. And much more confident."

"I don't know about fit, but sure."

"Oh, you know about fit. I saw how you looked at him when you dismounted earlier. Seemed like you wanted him to mount something else then and there."

"Hermione!"

"Harry!"

We both laugh, and she says, "So, I'm wondering why you haven't said something to him yet."

"I don't know. It's just been so long, and I have no idea what he thinks of me."

"Well, if his feelings haven't changed since school..."

"What?"

"Were you blind? He had a crush on you from fifth year on. I'm sure the only reason he never pursued anything was Ginny. And before that, his crippling lack of self confidence."

"Way to get right down to it," I say. "The butter's not in here, is it? It has to stay cool. You're mad. You know that, right?"

"No one will have noticed we left," she says, opening the door. "Think about it, alright? Saying something, I mean."

"I know what you mean." I step out behind her. "Now, can you put me out of my hungry, lovelorn misery with something salty and greasy and delicious?"

"I suppose I can." She smiles and we make our way toward the table, where Ron, Neville, Hugo, and Rose are already seated. The kids are on either side of Neville, who's listening intently as Hugo describes the distinct personalities of his stuffed kneazles. Ron's eyes are glued to the telly, which he turns off as soon as Hermione sits next to him.

Dinner is delicious as usual, and Neville says as much. Hermione beams with pride, and Ron looks at Neville admiringly, as though he's seeing him with new eyes. It's nice to see. OK, maybe it's wonderful to see. I'd love to have both Hermione and Ron's support in this, whatever this is. But then, I don't know how he feels.

Then he looks at me, and he smiles, almost shyly, face flushed, and I'm pretty sure I know.


	5. Feel Like My Heart's Fit To Burst

All through the next two months, I accompany Harry to Thursday night dinners at Ron and Hermione's. Our friendships get closer and more and more, I wonder how Harry feels. He seems so sure of himself whenever he puts his hand on my shoulder or pays me a compliment. But for all I know, that's how he treats everyone. I could be just another mate, no matter how much I want more.

One Saturday night, I'm slated to baby-sit Rose and Hugo. At the very last minute, Harry asks if I could use a hand.

"Getting the kids to bed isn't easy, I know. Not to say that you're not prepared for that."

"I'd appreciate the help." We Floo to the house rather than flying. It's November now, just a bit too cold for brooms. I try not to enjoy the way Harry, completely unnecessarily, grips my arm as we come through the fireplace and the children affix themselves to us in turn.

The children are unusually well behaved, maybe from the excitement of spending a night with Uncle Harry and, as I'm now called, Uncle Neville. Soon enough, they're in bed, and Harry and I settle in on opposite ends of the same couch to watch _Top Gear _reruns.

"I love this show," I say.

"I know. It's like they take something that could be completely uninteresting and make it brilliant." Harry pauses. "Also, Richard Hammond's pretty fit."

Until this moment, I've never been 100% certain of Harry Potter's sexuality. Now, I know he's open to the possibility of men. And my heart does an odd little dance as I nod and say, "Definitely. Even James has his appeal."

"Richard's at his best when his hair is short like this," says Harry. "I've always preferred short hair to long."

Without thinking, I run a hand through my own short brown hair. Harry laughs gently.

"Yes, Nev. Hair like yours." He scoots closer to me on the couch, and my breath catches in my throat as he tentatively puts his arm around my shoulders.

"Is this OK?" Harry asks. I nod, mouth dry. He laughs again. "Can you say something?"

"Sure. I can't promise I'll shut up, though," I say. "Harry, I ... I've had a crush on you since we were 15. I've been hoping for months that one or the other of us would do something about it, because I was starting to think you felt the same way. But I could never be sure. You're just so nice and sweet to everyone."

"More so to you than anyone else," says Harry softly. "I really like you, Neville. I have since the staff meeting where you talked about the time Hermione cast the Full Body Bind on you."

I settle against his shoulder and feel like my heart's fit to burst. "So ... I don't know what we do now. I haven't dated anyone in over a year. Do you want to give this a go, Harry? Do you want to give us a go?"

Harry nods and, despite being the Boy—the Man?—Who Lived, he seems to be shaking slightly. I snuggle closer to him. He sighs, sounding more content than I've ever heard from him. "We can go as slow as you need to."

"That might be pretty slow," I admit. "Things didn't end too well with Anthony."

"Goldstein?"

"Yeah. I just wasn't as invested as he was, I guess, and he took it really hard, hard enough that we tried to keep things going long past when we should've. He doesn't talk to me anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," I say. "It's not healthy to hang on to that kind of thing, unless it's right."

"Do you think..." Harry hesitates. "Do you think this could be right?"

I look up at him. "I hope so."

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, soft as possible. Feeling bold now that I know what he wants, I deepen the kiss. Soon, we're full on snogging, his back pinned against the couch, me straddled across his lap. His glasses are askew. I remove them and smile.

"You have gorgeous eyes, you know," I say, getting a closer look at the green for the first time.

"You have gorgeous everything," he says, smiling back and moving to kiss me again. I hear laughter behind me and practically leap off Harry's lap back into my spot next to him.

"Took you both long enough, didn't it?" Hermione asks, head cocked. Ron can't stop snickering.

"All it takes is _Top Gear_ and your children," says Harry, grinning. He reaches over and squeezes my hand. "We should've tried this months ago."

"Better late than never," I say, kissing him on the cheek.

"If you could tone it back in front of the kids..." Ron trails off and turns red as Hermione cuffs him on the arm. "Not because they're blokes! Come on, Hermione, we hardly even kiss in front of them!"

"But we're not nearly this cute," she counters.

"Well, that's certainly true on his end," says Harry.

"You two should get out of here," Hermione says. "Finish your business somewhere else. What do we owe you?"

I feel my face redden as Harry says, "Nothing. This is more than enough payment."


	6. I'd Like To Read To You

No such 'business' is finished that first night. Neville's nearly as shy as I am; both of us have only had sex twice before and don't want to spoil it by starting before we're ready. And if I have my way, this relationship isn't ending anytime soon.

I suppose I'd never thought about it before, but Hogwarts professors are required to inform the Headmaster or Headmistress if they strike up a romantic relationship. Minerva doesn't smile particularly often, but I could tell she was fighting one off when we sat down in her office, trying not to hold hands and failing.

"Well, Professors Longbottom and Potter, it is good to see both of you this happy. There are, however, rules when it comes to relationships of this nature." She returns to typical stern form to say, "While students will inevitably be able to tell that you are together, you are to refrain from disrupting your classes or public displays of affection in front of students." Minerva clears her throat and adds, "It would be prudent to keep any such activity in your quarters, and your quarters alone. You might be surprised to know how many trysts have made their way to the top of the Astronomy Tower or the fringes of the Forbidden Forest."

"We'll keep that in mind," I say.

"Very well." A smile crosses her face again as she says, "Congratulations. You may go."

I look over my shoulder on the way out. "What about Hogsmeade?"

Minerva waves her hand. "If it's not a Hogsmeade day for the students, it can be a Hogsmeade day for you."

We exit the office. "Should we have one of those, then?" I ask Nev.

"A Hogsmeade day?" He brightens. "Sure."

We go from the Headmistress' office to Neville's quarters, then mine, and then the Three Broomsticks for lunch. I haven't been there with a date in years, and Madam Rosmerta's smile tells me she's glad of my choice this time around.

"I've never been here for a date," Neville says as we settle in. He looks good enough to eat in what I'm sure is a gloriously soft grey sweater, but I refrain from saying so. "Anthony preferred Muggle restaurants, and Jack liked cooking enough that we hardly ever went out."

"I used to come here with Ginny sometimes, and Blaise liked it, too."

"Blaise Zabini? Really?"

"Yeah. Ultimately, he decided he preferred girls. The sex was brilliant, though." Nev's eyes go wide and I laugh. "I'm only joking, Nev. I was telling the truth when I said it was just Ginny, and it was only twice."

"I believed you."

We end up sharing fish and chips, which Rosmerta finds perfectly adorable, and head to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which now takes up Zonko's old space.

"George is going to be so excited," I say, squeezing Neville's hand. "He's wanted me to find someone for years. Someone who wasn't a Slytherin."

Sure enough, George's smile is wide enough to crack his face in half when he sees Nev's hand in mine.

"I should've suspected," he says after giving each of us a bone crushing hug. "You're both too good for anyone else."

Neville blushes. I resist the urge to kiss him then and there.

"Oh, go ahead, give him a kiss, Harry," says George, winking. "You know you want to."

I laugh and shrug and kiss Neville, who responds enthusiastically, enough that George cuts us off within a few seconds.

"I don't want this shop becoming a venue of pure scandal," he says. "Anything you want today's on the house."

We end up with a Muggle magic set and a few Skiving Snackboxes each in case we want a day off for each other in the future. Afterward, we poke around Honeydukes and the Apothecary. Nev contemplates buying an owl before determining that a cat is enough for him, and we had back to the castle, parcels in hand.

"You know what I'd like?" Neville asks me as we settle in to his quarters, close as possible to each other on the couch.

"What?"

"I'd like to read to you." He says it almost shyly, and I can't resist kissing him.

"I'd like that, too," I say, breaking off the kiss. "What should we read?"

"Let's start with _The Graveyard Book _and go from there," says Neville, pulling out a copy of a well-worn Gaiman book. "Technically it's for children, but I love it almost as much as I love _Stardust_. Don't worry. That one'll be next."

"This is really happening, isn't it?" I ask, settling with my head in his lap.

He runs his fingers through my hair for a moment or two before saying, "It is. I don't think I could be happier."

"I couldn't either," I say. Nev leans down to kiss me and I smile widely as he straightens back up and opens the book. "So, what's this one about?"

"Time to find out," he says.


	7. The Shadow Of A Smile

"Looks like they're both asleep," I say as we enter the hospital room. We're at St. Mungo's, visiting my parents for the first time together. Harry's face is a touch paler than usual, but he doesn't seem terribly nervous as we approach my mum's bed.

"Hi, Mum," I say softly. Her eyes flutter open and she blinks at me several times. There's no recognition on her face, but there's a trace of a smile there, which is more than enough for me. "This is Harry."

"Hi," he says. Mum cocks her head and looks at him. The shadow of a smile doesn't go away. One bed over, my father stirs, and we walk over together.

"Hi, Dad. This is Harry. Harry's my boyfriend," I say, addressing both my parents. "He's rather wonderful. In addition to saving the world, he's a good kisser and doesn't mind hearing my voice drone on and on when I read to him or when I'm talking about some stupid plant." Harry laughs and shakes his head as I go on, "I never thought he'd care about me the way I care about him. But here we are, aren't we? And I wanted you to meet him, even though you probably don't realize that's happening." Harry squeezes my hand. "I brought you a new picture. It's me and Harry. We're with a thestral, though most people won't be able to see it, will they? No matter. We can. And we both look nice in the picture. That hardly ever happens for me." I lean down and brush my lips against my dad's cheek. We walk back over to my mum, and I kiss her cheek as well. "It's good to see you again, Mum and Dad. I'll be back soon."

We exit the room. "Happy Christmas, Neville," says Harry.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," I say. We kiss in the middle of the hallway at St. Mungo's, earning smiles from Healers all around. The Boy Who Lived and the one who cut the head off the snake. Everyone knows we're together now, thanks to photographers in Hogsmeade and Rita Skeeter's intrepid reporting skills. I've no objection to this. In a way, I'm proud: two of Hogwarts' best and brightest, according to the _Prophet_, together and happy. And we are. We really are. We fight here and there, but it's refreshing to know he's not perfect, and I think it relieves him to know that I'm not, either, though I could've told him that long ago. Anyway, the reconciliations always make the fights worth it. We're with Hermione and Ron once a week and Hagrid as often. Life, as we know it, is almost sickeningly happy. And if it's at all possible, I wouldn't have it any other way.


	8. I'll Be Back Later, I Promise

We've returned from a particularly good date and are curled up in my quarters, Nev reading _Stardust _to me, when I get a Floo call from the Minister of Magic.

"Kingsley. This is a surprise," I say, straightening up and walking over to the fireplace. Neville stays behind on the couch.

"Hello, Harry. Hello, Neville," says Kingsley. "Under normal circumstances, I'd spend more time telling you how good it is to see the two of you together and happy. But I'm afraid these aren't normal circumstances." He pauses and takes a breath, less collected than I've ever seen him, before saying, "Gregory Goyle has escaped from Azkaban and is rumored to be on his way to Hogwarts."

I stiffen and my voice shakes as I ask, "How? Goyle ... Goyle's not smart enough for that."

"It seems he had some help from Lucius Malfoy. Normally, I'd have Draco handle this, since it concerns both his father and his former friend. But Draco is on assignment in Bolivia." Malfoy, I know, recently passed through the Auror training program. Apparently he's quite good at what he does—not surprising, considering how powerful a wizard he really is. Plus, he's reformed completely and not reviled as he once was. But his father hasn't changed, nor has Goyle. Everyone knows that. But it seems that might become even clearer now.

"So I'm guessing you'd like me to return to duty," I say. I turn around to look at Neville, knowing I can't do this without knowing I have his support. He nods, and I look back at Kingsley. "I'll do it. Do we have a plan?"

"We suspect he'll be coming late tonight, though we're not sure what means he'll use."

"I am," says Neville, standing up and stepping forward. "He knows about the passage through the Hog's Head. He couldn't get into the Room of Requirement when we were there, but he could when it was empty. Anyone could. Malfoy's fault that Goyle got in, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Neville," Kingsley says, sounding impressed. "That's extremely valuable information. Harry, will you camp out there?"

I nod. "How soon?"

"Soon. I suppose you should take a few minutes for mental prep."

Again, I nod, not knowing what else to say. "It should be OK."

"I trust you," says Kingsley. "Good luck." And with that, he's gone.

I turn and find myself in Nev's arms. He holds me tightly and I do the same to him. I feel tears falling down my back and know my own eyes have welled up.

"It's going to be OK," I say. "You know it is."

"That's not going to make me any less worried." He steps back and puts his hands on my shoulders. "It might be bad timing, but I love you, Harry."

Despite the circumstances, I'm thrilled beyond thrilled to hear it. "I love you, too. I have for a while. I just ... sometimes I'm not as brave as I make myself out to be."

"I love that about you. I love when you're honest with yourself."

"I try to be."

"I know," he says softly before kissing me. All I want to do is push him back against the wall and show him how grateful I am, for his love and his companionship and his support, but I know I can't. "I'll be back later. I promise. I love you too much not to."

"You sound like a Hufflepuff sometimes, you know." Nev smiles wryly.

"Sometimes it's worth it." I kiss him again before leaving. "Later. Really."

"I know."


	9. I Need Him So I Need To Help Him

It's sometime around midnight that I feel a kind of pull inside me, like I'm needed, like I should be where he is, where they are or where they will be, and I find myself headed toward the greenhouses.

I don't have much of it, but it's there in case it's ever needed. It shouldn't be, but, you know, desperate measures and all that. I cut a generous length of the plant and put it in the rucksack I threw over my shoulder on the way out of Harry's quarters. _Harry_. I need to move faster. I stand still for a moment or two, thinking about the last three months, the best of my life. We have plans for Valentine's Day. I've never had those before. Relationships have just never lined up for this time of year, not till now. We're going to Nice in France just for the food. Then we're going to the West End for _War Horse_. We might even make love that night, though neither of us has said as much. I just get the feeling. That is, if he's still alive. And I know he needs to be. So I hurry back to the castle and rush to an all too familiar place, a tapestry I know better than the back of my hand.

"I need to help Harry," I mutter to myself, "and I need to do it quietly. I need to help the love of my life—" My voice breaks, but I continue, "And I need to do it fast. I need him so I need to help him, and I need to do it now." Soundlessly, the door swings open, and I duck behind a desk, but not before catching a glimpse of Gregory Goyle facing Harry, wand drawn.

"I knew it," Goyle says, and I hear the contempt in his voice. "I knew they'd send you. Didn't have the guts to send Draco, did they? Don't want to lose a precious Auror and you're not valuable enough to them anymore?"

"Draco is somewhere doing something more important than apprehending rubbish like you, Goyle," says Harry, sounding substantially fiercer than I've heard in years. Under normal circumstances, this would be incredibly sexy; now, it's appropriately threatening.

"You don't know what I can do, Potter," Goyle says. "The things I've learned, from the Carrows, from Azkaban, from Lucius ... I could rip you apart without even thinking about it."

"And I could do the same to you," Harry says coolly. "But I won't, because you're not worth it."

"_Crucio_!" One guess as to who threw that one.

"_Protego_!"

"_Sectum_—"

"_Stupefy_!" Harry shouts. I hear Goyle fall and Harry taking a step back. Then there's a terrifying growl from across the room.

"_Crucio_!" Goyle screams. Harry hits the ground with a sickening thud. He let his guard down and I know what it's time for.

I stand up and turn around. "_Petrificus Totalus_," I say, sounding much calmer than I feel. Goyle's fall is much louder than Harry's. I look at Harry, still writhing in pain, and hesitate before moving toward Goyle. Reaching into my rucksack, I draw out the length of Devil's Snare I cut earlier and wind it around his arms, legs, and torso. I pull the wand out of his hand and crack it over my knee. Standing and turning around again, I rush over to Harry. He's blinking rapidly.

"Nev?"

"This'll help the pain," I say, drawing out a _Sensatico _potion. He lifts his hand shakily and takes the bottle from me, pouring the liquid down his throat. The _Sensatico _seems to take effect immediately. Harry sits up and looks at me.

"Did you just ... did you do that to him?" he asks, gesturing toward Goyle.

"Yeah. Full Body Bind and Devil's Snare," I say. "Went over to the greenhouses and dug into my hidden supply. Pretty good, right? Also, got a wand. But I broke it. Don't think it'll do much good for him when he's back in Azkaban. Higher security this time, I'm guessing."

"Neville..." Harry reached over and stroked my cheek. "You saved my life."

"Kind of. I mostly just held him off. I think you could've finished him off yourself."

The spell begins wearing off and Goyle realizes he can't move.

"Longbottom?" he croaks. "_You _did this?"

"Don't sound so surprised," I say. "Don't you remember the snake? And its head? The one I cut off?"

Harry laughs. It sounds better than it ever has. "I guess we take him back to Kingsley now, then?"

"I guess we do. Want to do the honors?"

Harry reaches for his wand and casts another Full Body Bind. I stand up and offer him my hand. He takes it and levitates Goyle's body a few feet in front of us as we walk to Harry's quarters.

"I'm never going to stop thanking you for this, Neville," Harry says quietly when we reenter the room.

"You would've done it for me, too," I say.

He unceremoniously dumps Goyle on the floor and puts his arms around me. After kissing me deeply, he says, "Of course I would have. But I wouldn't have done it so cleverly or calmly or anything like that. You were just so brave. You're always going to be there when I can't do it on my own, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. That's what happens when you're in love."

"We are, aren't we?"

We kiss again, and a few more times, before casting yet another _Petrificus Totalus _(it's my turn again) and calling Kingsley.

"He's here," says Harry. "Neville got him."

Kingsley steps through the fireplace. "How?"

"Devil's Snare and a well-timed Full Body Bind," I say.

"He saved my life," Harry adds, looking at me fondly. My face flushes as Kingsley steps forward to embrace me.

"You did well, Neville," he says. "You'd be a damn fine Auror."

"I think I'll settle for pretty good professor right now." I smile and step toward Harry, putting my arm around him as Kingsley takes hold of Goyle.

"I'll bring him back to the Ministry for further examination. You did well. Both of you. Some kind of commendation will be in order."

"For Nev, I hope," says Harry. "I hardly did anything."

"You were there when you were needed, Harry," I say quietly. "You always are."

"I try." I can tell he's holding himself back from kissing me, and so can Kingsley.

"Good night. Thank you. Thank you both." Kingsley steps out with Goyle draped across his arms, and Harry doesn't hold back anymore, all but tackling me onto his couch.

I laugh. "Eager, are we?"

"You have no idea." He starts at my forehead and leaves a trail of kisses down to my collarbone before pulling my jumper over my head. "Seriously, Nev? Layers? Do you think I have any patience?" Harry takes his wand out of his pocket and vanishes my undershirt.

"You do know how to get that back, don't you?" I ask before he moves on to my chest and I can't seem to talk anymore, just sigh and moan at the appropriate moments.

"You know, this doesn't have to be just me," he says after a couple glorious minutes. I comply, taking out my wand, removing his shirt, and mimicking his movements, lingering at his collarbones. I've always loved those, from the first time after the disarming that I saw him shirtless in the dorm in fifth year. I tell him that, and he shivers and smiles.

"I love you so much," says Harry. "Maybe too much for this right now, though. And I'm still not feeling amazing. I mean, I feel amazing because of what you're doing—_oh_—but I could really use, well, can we just get in bed?"

"Bit forward there, Harry."

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean that."

"I know." He pulls me up by the hand and we lie together in bed, trousers and shoes off now. Facing him, I run my hands through his permanently mussed hair.

"So soft," I say. "Like the rest of you."

"You too," says Harry, running his hand down my side. I shiver slightly and he kisses me deeply. "I just can't get over you, saving me, being there. It's so ... Merlin. I love you so much."

"I love you, too. But please, get over it. I don't take this whole hero worship thing well."

He laughs. "We have that in common. Can I go to sleep now?"

"Of course," I say, lying on my back so he can curl up against me the way he likes to.

"I love you. I'm in love with you," Harry says as he drifts off to sleep.

"I'm so in love with you." I brush my lips across his forehead while his breathing goes steady and I close my eyes.


	10. Something I Need To Confirm With You

"First Muggle novels, then Muggle films, and now Muggle music?" I cluck my tongue at Neville. "Have you no regard for your heritage?"

"In my defense, Gran raised me on the Beatles, bless her," Neville says, tapping his foot to a song I've never heard, a rather good one. I bob my head along as I slice into a tomato from the newly grown garden behind 12 Grimmauld Place. "And I bet she'd think Arcade Fire was brilliant, too."

"I suppose." It's a Saturday afternoon in June, our first weekend off school, and we're making lunch in the house's grubby kitchen. Before this, I lived in a one room flat in London, and Nev stayed at the school year round. Now that I have someone to live with, though, we're in Grimmauld Place for the entire summer.

It's been a blissful few months. Goyle's locked up tight in Azkaban with Lucius Malfoy in a nearby cell. Hermione had her baby, a girl named Rhiannon, in March; Neville and I took half a week off to help hold down the Granger-Weasley fort. We're both godfathers to the kids now, which didn't come as much of a surprise, but was certainly quite flattering.

We talk about kids sometimes. It's what the conversation inevitably turns to when the future comes up. We know we'll get married, sure. It's as easy for same sex couples as it is opposite genders in our world—not that it would've mattered. We already feel married. We just haven't made it official. It's mind-boggling, how quickly things change. Last year at this time I was alone and fairly content with it. Now I can't imagine life without Neville. Even toasting bread and pulling apart lettuce would be lonely without him next to me.

_Anyway_, kids. It's something we've discussed, and something we want. There's an orphanage run by Andromeda Tonks, something she opened after Remus and Tonks died. It's all young witches and wizards there, just like her grandson Teddy, who'll be staying with us for much of July and part of August. We think that we'll go to Andromeda when we feel like it's time. And that's not yet. But it's sure to come eventually.

For now, though, the house is still a mess and I've been hinting that my proposal will come any day now. So we're tidying up as much as we can. The kitchen's still on the edge of hideous, but the bedrooms and bathrooms are starting to look better and better. It's almost like a home now. It certainly feels that way when Nev and I are in bed together, sleeping in far later than is necessary and mostly shirking any work that might come up.

"Ginny and Dean asked if we'd like to come over for dinner tonight," I say, beginning to assemble BLTs. I tried one at a sub shop in London over a month ago and still haven't gotten over them, especially when the tomatoes are fresh and the lettuce came from the produce stand two blocks away. "I told them yes, mostly because, well, we haven't seen anyone lately, have we?"

"I was getting used to having you to myself," Neville says with a mock pout.

After putting the sandwiches on plates, I carry them out onto the back porch. Nev brings out a couple bottles of Old Peculier, an ale we've recently discovered and love, and sits down next to me.

"I like being all yours, too," I say around a mouthful of food, a habit Neville still hasn't broken me of. "But it might be nice to, you know, be social once in a while. We haven't seen Ron and Hermione since term ended."

"I guess we could offer to make them dinner or watch the kids sometime. So long as we get to watch _Top Gear _when they're asleep."

I grin. "I'm sure they'll allow that. Oh, hey! There was something I need to confirm with you."

"What's that?"

I rummage around in my pocket and pull out a pair of rings. "Did you want to get married sometime?"

Neville takes a moment to get over the shock, then laughs, loud and hard. "I thought you were more romantic than this."

"I can be. Remember Valentine's Day and Nice and the roses?"

He smiles at the memory. "Well, sometimes, sure. But really, Harry? 'Did you want to get married sometime?' That's all you've got?"

"Well, you haven't even answered me yet."

"I thought it was assumed that I was going to say yes. You did say all you were looking for was a confirmation."

"And I still am," I say. I can tell we're both trying not to laugh.

"Well, sure, then. We could do that. How's August for you?"

"I think my schedule's wide open in the second half. Yours?"

"Such a coincidence. So's mine. If we shoot for the third Saturday of the month, we can take a week long honeymoon before term starts."

"Sounds like a plan." I take his left hand and put one of the rings on. It's gold with a red gemstone—unsurprising, really, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Ours are the same, which I think I like even more. I hand it to Neville and he puts it on my extended left hand. We shake hands heartily before I crawl into his chair, laughing, and we kiss on it.

"Sorry I didn't let you pick mine."

"That's fine. You made a good choice."

"Fiancé is a nice word, don't you think?" I ask.

"I think you've gained weight since I started cooking for you," Neville says, shifting me around on his lap. "It's supposed to be the opposite. You're actually having vegetables now."

"Shut it. I haven't flown in weeks."

"We'll fly to Ginny and Dean's."

"They're 12 miles away!"

"Then we'll play a Seeker's game after lunch."

"I'll kick your ass, you realize."

"I know," he says. "I don't care. If it makes you skinnier..."

"Git," I say fondly, kissing him on the top of the head. "Oh, that's kind of nice. I should be taller than you more often. This is after all the only way I can do it."

"I don't mind having you here, weight problem aside." Nev laughs. "You know you're perfect, right? I'm not giving you a complex, am I?"

"Of course not. Believe it or not, Nev, I know you pretty well." I finish my sandwich and say, "It doesn't seem right that I just proposed to you and you don't even want to see what engaged sex feels like."

"Is that a proposition, Mr. Potter?"

"I think you already know what it is, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville pushes me off his lap. "Race you to the bedroom."

"You're on."


	11. Still Feeling 15

"Harry!"

Andromeda's smiling widely as Teddy flies across the room from the fireplace and smashes into Harry, nearly knocking him over. She shakes her head. "He's been excited for weeks. Couldn't stop talking about Harry and his fiancé. By the way, before I forget, congratulations." She pulls me into a hug, which I gladly return before getting another from Teddy.

"I don't know you much, but I like you because you like Harry," Teddy says. "I'm Teddy."

"I know. I'm Neville."

"I like calling grownups by their first names," says Teddy. "Gran doesn't let me do it to her."

"Well, she's your gran, not your friend," I say. "That's what we are."

"She's my friend, too. But I guess Gran is more important. No offense."

I smile, sure he's heard the phrase from an adult. "None taken. Ready for lunch?" I look at Andromeda. "I thought the four of us could go to the Three Broomsticks and the sundae shop afterward."

"That sounds lovely," she says, stepping toward Harry to give him a hug. "How are you both doing? Wedding planning weighing you down?"

Harry shakes his head. "Hermione and Mrs. Weasley have stepped in. I don't have to tell you that we're not doing any work anymore."

"Perfect," says Andromeda. "More time to work on the house, then. Not that you need to anymore." She looks around the drawing room. "This is turning out beautifully."

Grimmauld Place is substantially brighter than it once was, with more red and gold than ever before, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Black's portrait. Harry covered that with a heavy crimson tapestry as a last-ditch effort to shut her up, and if you walk by quietly enough, it works like, well, a charm.

My favorite room is Harry's and my bedroom. It's huge, with desks for both of us, plus a couch and an accompanying telly so we can catch up on _Top Gear _and watch Muggle films. Harry's particularly fond of Christopher Nolan—I think it's the action that appeals to him, unsurprisingly—and I'm more for quieter fare, Wes Anderson and the like. And we both love classic screwball comedies. Sometimes Ron and Hermione join us for those. Yes, we're interacting with the rest of society again, and it suits us fine, so long as we get Saturday mornings to ourselves.

Not that we'll get that for the next three weeks. But I think we'll survive.

Teddy's hair turns a vibrant yellow as Andromeda takes his arm and the four of us Apparate to Hogsmeade. He orders the largest possible butterbeer and insists on buying us all lunch with his allowance, provided he can order for us. So it's bangers and mash for the lot, and that's fine by me. Even the freshest vegetables get old over time.

I grin at Harry across the table. Teddy's telling him about his first broomstick and what a poor flyer he is. "Gran says my mum was awful, too," he says cheerfully. "'Dead clumsy,' she said."

"She was," says Harry. "But your dad was good."

"I know. He was the best," Teddy says proudly. "Do you like bangers and mash? You're eating it so fast."

"It's brilliant."

"Brilliant," Teddy echoes. "Can we go to Fortescue's now?"

"You're not even done," Andromeda points out. "Give us all a few minutes to breathe, Teddy."

Teddy nods and attacks his food. I stifle a laugh and look at Harry again, who's doing the same. I think we could get used to this.

"Does this feel like practice to you, then?" Andromeda asks me quietly.

I blush and nod. "We'll come to you eventually. I don't know when. But we'd both ... well, considering the past, somewhere like your orphanage is exactly where we'd go."

She nods and smiles warmly. "I know." She looks at Harry and back at me. "You're both wonderful people. And it's damn near miraculous that such a couple would exist."

"Now you're just flattering me."

"It's not flattering if it's true," she says. "You remind me of Ted and me, and Remus and Tonks, and all the lovely couples I've known. No one's perfect. But you can be perfect together. I know that from experience. So did my daughter. And so do you."

I smile at Harry. "Yeah. I do."

We happen upon Ginny and Dean at Fortescue's. Ginny waves her hand in front of our faces until we take notice of her ring. It's gorgeous, silver and engraved with their initials, and I tug at my ring fondly. I prefer it, but now's probably not the time to say so.

"Congratulations to the both of you," I say. "Dean, thanks for asking long enough before the wedding that the focus will still be on us."

"Of course, mate," he says with a grin. "Only a month now, isn't it?"

"29 days, actually," says Harry. I shake my head at him. "What? It's not like you haven't been counting down."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't say so out loud."

Ginny sighs happily. "Look at you two. So much happier than Harry and I could've ever been. I should've dropped him sixth year."

"But then it wouldn't have been so romantic," Dean points out.

"I know," she says. "Makes me sick sometimes. In a good way."

Harry hugs her. "Good to hear I'm making you sick for much better reasons these days." He looks around. "We should find Teddy and Andromeda. I'm sure she's ready to be rid of him for a while."

"Say hi for us," says Ginny, lifting her hand in a wave as we walk away to find them.

"Sometimes I wonder what could've been if you and Ginny weren't so at odds," I say to Harry. He turns to me and puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses me, right there in the middle of the ice cream shop.

"Nev," he says, "you should never wonder that. It wasn't something that was meant to be. And this is. I know that. You know that. And it's never going to change."

"I know," I say. "I love you. So much."

He nods. "And I love you. Now, let's find our friends before Andromeda hauls off and pulls Teddy's bright yellow hair out of his head."

I laugh and take his outstretched hand, still feeling 15, still glad that it somehow took this long.


	12. How Nervous Are You?

"There's no real point in a stag party if you're both blokes, is there?" Neville asks me above the rush of noise in the Muggle club Ron's taken us to, along with George, David Dutton, Dean, and Seamus, who surprised us by showing up this morning at the Burrow.

"Well, we both appreciate the female form, right? Maybe there'll be a stripper or something."

"Ron's married, Dean's engaged, George is taken, and Seamus, well, he might be the lone holdout."

"Doesn't seem like Seamus has enough pull to get a stripper, having been back in Ireland so long."

"True."

"You're talking about how a stag party doesn't make sense for two blokes, aren't you?" Ron asks, coming from the bar to hand us both a shot of firewhisky. "You probably won't even stay out past midnight."

"Well, we need to give engaged sex a go one last time, don't we?" I kiss Nev on the cheek and Ron rolls his eyes.

"Always has to be in front of me, doesn't it?" he asks.

"Ron, I never realized you'd want to watch," says Neville in mock surprise. "If you're interested, we could arrange that."

"Sod off," Ron says, smiling. "So, how drunk do you think we have to get Dean before he does a body shot off Seamus?"

Not too drunk, it turned out. And Neville and I certainly didn't get that far. Too excited, I think, and too ready to try to get a good night of sleep before the big day. Our last drink of the night is a Calming Draught before we lie down in separate rooms, as we have been for the past two weeks. Nev thought it would make the honeymoon more special. Needless to say, I've gotten really good at wanking, almost as well practiced as I was in my fifth year. And from how frustrated Neville looks whenever we kiss, I imagine he's more skilled than ever, too. Should be helpful on the honeymoon, I suppose.

"How nervous are you?" Hermione asks. Quite suddenly, it feels, it's morning, and she's straightening up my tie. "And when did you learn to tie a bowtie?"

"Not too nervous. There's nothing for me to recite, since we didn't write our own vows. And it's not like I don't feel married already. As for the bowtie, do you have any idea how many Ministry galas an Auror has to attend? I had this down years ago."

"I keep meaning to ask you, why are you wearing Muggle suits? Why not dress robes? You have some really nice ones leftover from said galas."

"I know," I say. "But Neville looks really, _really _good in a suit."

"I do, don't I?" Neville enters the small tent where Hermione and I are getting ready. Of course, she was ready hours ago, looking stunning in her gold bridesmaid dress. She, Ginny, Ron, and Dean are standing alongside us. I step into Nev's arms.

"You do."

"You're not supposed to see each other!" Hermione chides us, but she's smiling.

"The rules are different for men, don't you think?" I ask Neville. He nods and kisses me, perhaps too deeply in front of an audience. Hermione just shakes her head as we carry on.

"Sorry," he says, breaking off the kiss. "I miss that."

"You took a couple weeks off, didn't you?" Hermione nods knowingly. "Ron and I did that, too. He was insufferable."

"You weren't?"

She shrugs. "Girls are just better at this kind of thing. You both look brilliant, by the way. Harry, you were right. Black's right for you, and grey's right for him."

"He was wearing grey the first time we snogged. On your couch, if you remember."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "How could I forget? Ron and I had great sex that night. Something about seeing you."

"Thanks for that," Neville says. "I really needed a clear visual of you and Ron shagging before I walk down the aisle."

We hear the strains of an organ outside the tent. "We should probably head out there, eh?" I ask Neville and Hermione.

"Probably." Nev takes my hand and we head to the back of the much larger tent where the ceremony is taking place. Kingsley's officiating and I've never seen him look prouder. After Ginny and Dean, then Hermione and Ron, make their way to the front of the tent, Neville and I follow down the middle aisle. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

"I love you," I mouth.

"I love you, too," he mouths back, smile as wide as possible.

I hardly hear a word Kingsley says. Hell, I hardly hear myself as I repeat back the vows and Neville does his. It's just so overwhelming, him here across from me, holding both my hands in his, hearing, I'm sure, about as much as I am. The thing I hear loudest and clearest is "You may kiss, well, each other" and a deep chuckle as we lean in and do what the man gave us permission to do.


	13. Forever's Fine For Me

"I don't know why you wanted to go here," I say to Harry. "I mean, it's wonderful, but how did you know that?"

"The Dursleys went without me when I was seven," says Harry. "They said they didn't have enough money, which was crap, but I tried not to take it personally."

"I'm still really sorry for how they treated you," I say, taking hold of his free hand. The other's grasping what we've cleverly come to call a Mickey Head Ice Cream Bar, vanilla ice cream shaped like Mickey Mouse's head and dipped in chocolate. I've got one of my own. They're delicious and we're bound to gain about three stones each on this honeymoon. But it's worth it.

"It's fine. I've dealt with worse," he says, smiling at me. "And I finally made it to Disney World. I have nothing to complain about, you see, because we're here together, and Space Mountain scared the shit out of you, and I can't wait till that ride with the yeti does the same."

"It looks nothing like a real yeti. They know that, right?"

"Of course not."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Quit saying that, you're going to spoil it."

"Never." I grin and kiss him on the cheek. A little girl points us out to her parents, who smile at us warmly.

"Look, Mum! It's Harry Potter and the one who cut the head off the snake!"

Her parents quickly shush her. Harry shakes his head. "Even over here, all the way in Florida, we get recognized. And I wish they'd learn your name. It's certainly in the papers enough."

"Well, they have to get used to a more normal last name. That can't be easy."

"'Neville Longbottom' had a really nice ring to it."

"And 'Neville Potter' is even better."

"If you say so." We make our way toward the Haunted Mansion. From what I've seen, the ghosts are surprisingly accurate in there. "I've told you how jealous Ron is, right? He's still upset at Hermione for dragging him to Scandinavia for their honeymoon, especially since it was mostly because of the unicorn colony in Sweden."

I laugh. "Classic Hermione. I bet he just loved the weather."

Harry wrinkles up his nose in a way I'll never stop finding adorable. "He should really leave England if he hates the winter so much."

"Oh, come off it. You and I would both hate it if Ron and Hermione left. We'd be out three godchildren."

"But we'd still have one nearby." Harry looks at a pair of children in a stroller fondly. "I'm going to miss having Teddy around."

"We could start thinking about that soon, you know," I say quietly as we join the queue for the ride. "Andromeda thinks we're ready. I do, too."

"What about teaching?"

"Well, the paperwork would take at least a few months. And I may or may not have shopped around for a replacement earlier this summer," I say as quickly as possible. "You're not mad, are you?"

Harry laughs. "Why would I be mad? Nev, we've been ready for months. We were ready before Teddy came to visit, and now, we're even more ready. I just ... you have so much more forethought than I do."

"That was true in school. Now, I'm not so sure."

Harry slings his arm around me as though he can't help touching me more. "And the replacements? Who've you found?"

"Terry Boot for you, and a botanist from Wales for me."

"They won't be near as good as you."

"No," I agree. "And Boot won't be near as good as you, either. But they're both brilliant. And they're more than capable of teaching the subjects."

"Boot always was one of the best in the D.A.," says Harry thoughtfully. "And he's an extremely talented Curse Breaker."

"I know. I researched him."

Harry shakes his head. "You think so much. Not too much, though. Just enough to think sufficiently for both of us."

"You're not dumb. You sound like you think you are."

"I'm not. You're just loads smarter."

I roll my eyes and kiss him on the top of the head. "If you insist."

"So when should we start the paperwork?"

"Let's take a month and get it going in October," I say. "I want to plan out my lessons through the semester so I have enough work to hand off to Elena, that's her name, in January. I can help you do the same, if you want," I add when Harry's eyes go wide. "It's really not that hard when you get down to it. And we'll be way too busy once we start looking at prospective..." I gulp. "Children. Oh, God, Harry. We're going to have a kid. A son or a daughter."

"A son," he says firmly.

"Or a daughter," I counter.

"But I want a boy! Boys like dragons and fighting and I'm sure they could learn to like plants..."

I laugh. "Teddy likes reading the newspaper, Hugo likes kneazles and other fluffy animals, and Rose is the one who likes dragons."

"I suppose that's true," he says, sighing. "I'll keep my options open. I adore you, you know."

"I thought we weren't going to spoil it!"

"I changed it to 'adore.' Completely different from 'love.'"

"You'll have to show me the difference sometime."

"Sure. How about forever?"

"Forever's fine for me," I say as we enter yet another near-magical holding room at the front of the ride.


	14. Alistair

The paperwork is a nightmare. It's like being at the Ministry all over again, form after form, the same cursory information again and again. They need to make sure neither of us is mad (we're not), that we're fit to be parents (we are), and that we're in this for the long haul (which should be obvious by the number of forms we've filled out). And they need to make sure about a hundred times over. Nev, bless him, is so much more patient than I am. He keeps reminding me that this'll be worth it, that it's what we both want more than anything, and that we're ready to share our lives with another person, one who's beautiful and innocent and absolutely perfect. And we think we've found him. But we have to meet him first.

"Good to see you both," Andromeda says. It's a beautifully clear day in January. We couldn't wait too much longer than we absolutely had to, and Alistair, the boy (yes, I won that argument) Andromeda's told us about, has already been at the orphanage for three months. He's content, she says, rather reserved unless you get him talking about, well, anything at all. He's four, brown-haired, like us, brown-eyed, like Neville, and compactly built, like me—though that could change at any time. He's young yet. And Andromeda tells us that that's for the best. The loneliness hasn't got to him much, and with luck, it never will.

"Ali's making a tower," Andromeda says, leading us to the back of the main room. "He's probably concentrating too hard to look up."

The three of us approach a young boy, who's staring concertedly at a stack of colorful blocks. He removes one from the top when he seems to notice that it's near toppling.

"That's as high as it'll go," he says, looking up. As we'd been able to tell from the pictures, he's about as handsome as a four-year-old can be, with deep brown eyes flecked with green and an easy smile, which he doles out on us. "I'm Ali. Are you my dads?"

Neville laugh, a nervous laugh that I know is due entirely to shyness, not a lack of confidence. "Hopefully. I'm Neville." Ali stands up and puts out his hand. They shake.

"I'm Harry," I say. Ali shakes my hand next.

"Oh, I know you both," says Ali. "You killed the snake, and you killed Voldemort. Cool."

"I've never heard a four-year-old say 'Voldemort,'" I say with a grin. "You must be a pretty mature sort."

Ali nods. "Andromeda says so. Denny, too." Someone I assume to be Denny stands up and walks over, leaving a round of dress-up behind. He's still wearing an eye patch and holding a hook in his hand, partially covering it with his sleeve. Hurriedly, he takes off his pirate accessories and lifts his hand in a wave.

"Hi, I'm Denny. Wait, we were in school together, weren't we?"

I take a closer look. Neville recognizes him first.

"Dennis Creevey. Blimey, it's been years." Neville gives him a hug, and Denny, beaming, hugs back before I take my turn.

"You work here, then?" I ask.

Dennis—Denny now, I suppose—nods. "I know what it's like to lose someone. I thought I could help."

"And he does," Andromeda says fondly, putting her hand on Denny's arm. "Now, if I could just borrow your dads and take them into my office, Ali, we can get that last bit of paperwork filed."

"More?" Nev laughs at the expression on my face and tugs me along.

"We just need your signatures on this last line," says Andromeda after we sit down at her desk. "I know you're ready for this, Harry, Neville. You're going to be wonderful parents for Ali."

I swallow hard, blinking back tears. I hadn't expected to react in such a way, but a son? It seems worth tears. Neville squeezes my hand and signs his name. I can tell he's trying not to cry, too. Andromeda taps a box of tissues on her desk.

"That's what they're there for, you know," she says with a wink. "Believe it or not, you're not the only new parents in the history of the orphanage to cry when they meet their child for the first time." We each take a tissue. Neville blows his nose loudly and we all laugh, perhaps searching for something funny to break up the sentimentality, and Andromeda takes the form.

"This should be filed and done with by the end of tomorrow. How is Friday for both of you?"

"Friday is perfect," I say. "Can we talk to him before we leave?"

"Of course," says Andromeda. She leads us back out to where Ali is busy sending tiny trucks through a tunnel he's made.

"Ali," says Nev, "what's your favorite color?"

Ali cocks his head to the side. "I like all of them," he says thoughtfully. "But I like red best."

"Brilliant. That'll go well with the rest of the house," I say. "Ready to go paint?"

Neville nods. "We'll see you in two days, Ali."

Ali reaches his arms upward for a hug. Neville crouches down and accepts it, kissing Ali's forehead. Ali comes to me next and I do the same.

"I'm glad you're my dads," he says as we turn to go.


	15. My Two Favorite People

"Dad! Dad! Something weird just happened!"

I look at the clock next to our bed, too lazy for a Tempus Charm, and groan. It's a Saturday, it's not even 7:30 yet, and Ali's already yelling.

"What's he on about?" Harry asks.

"You don't want to go check?" I give him my most charming smile. With a sigh, he gets out of bed and shuffles to Ali's room. I overhear a muffled conversation, and then they're both shouting for me.

"What is it?" I ask after sitting down on Ali's bed. Both he and Harry look giddy about something.

"Dad, I just did magic," says Ali. "And I can do it again." He looks at one of his toy cars and squints. It rolls across the floor of its own accord.

"Ali! That's brilliant!" I say. "I forgot that it's mostly wandless bits and pieces till you're in school. Congratulations!"

Harry can't keep the smile off his face. "Isn't he amazing?" He ruffles Ali's hair before turning slightly serious. "Ali, you can't do this all the time, OK? Try to keep it under control. We don't want you going mad with power or anything like that."

Ali laughs. "I won't do that. And I'll never do it in front of anyone."

"You can do it in front of us," I offer.

"You don't count."

"Thanks a lot," says Harry.

"Can I tell Teddy?" Teddy's two years older than Ali and they're already damn near inseparable.

"Of course you can," I say. "Just don't get into any battles with him."

"I won't," Ali says solemnly. "You look tired, Dad. And so do you, Dad," he adds, turning to Harry. "You can go back to bed now. I just wanted to show you. I thought you'd want to see."

"Thank you for showing us," I say, kissing him on the head and pulling Harry along with me after he does the same to Ali. We make our way back to bed and after casting a Silencing Charm on the door I kiss him with all I can.

"What's that for?" Harry laughs. "I mean, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but why?"

"One, we have a son. Two, our son can do magic and he's only five years old. And three, you being this proud of him is about the cutest thing I've ever seen." I grin and kiss him again.

"Well, I'll never understand what triggers you being turned on, but I'll run with it," he says. We make love and cuddle and fall asleep again till it's long past time to wake up and Ali comes in, demanding chocolate chip pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

"You're lucky they're in season," I say. "Have you picked any lately?"

"I will," he says, running down the hallway and stripping off his pajamas as he goes. He rushes back out in a t-shirt and shorts. "Where are my sandals?"

"I hope you kept them from Gilly," I say, all too aware of her shoe-eating habit.

"I always do," Ali shouts before running outside, slamming the door on the way out.

"I'll never understand how you keep the orange trees working," says Harry, shaking his head as he pulls pancake ingredients out of the pantry.

"How I keep them working?" I laugh. "Well, you let me build a greenhouse in our backyard, and I've got temperature control spells set in it, and the spells last about a week, and they're extremely powerful, and it about blew Pomona's mind when she came over to see the trees."

"You love bragging about that," Harry says fondly. "How's she doing?"

"I think she enjoys being retired much more than she enjoyed teaching. Now she can actually handle deadly plants without worrying about some kid mucking them up."

"And that's everyone's dream."

Ali runs back into the kitchen, carrying as many oranges as possible.

"This should make at least three glasses," I say. "Thanks, Ali. You can go watch the telly till everything's ready." Ali runs off without another word.

"He walks all over us, Nev," says Harry. "I mean, look at me. I'm wearing an apron and stirring pancake batter and adding liberal amounts of chocolate chips to an already sugary beyond sugary mix."

"You sound like me."

"There's got to be a spell for that." Harry points to the juicer, which nearly takes too much effort to use, but I can't bear to part with it.

"If there is, I haven't found it," I say, extracting the juice from the oranges one by one and hardly spilling a drop. "And sometimes, the Muggle way is better. I'd like to point out that you could definitely be stirring that with your mind, not your hands."

"Fair point." He carefully pours the batter onto the griddle in neat circles.

"Never ceases to amaze me how cleanly you do that."

"Years of practice." He grins and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. "Up for another round later?"

"Ali's in the next room!"

"For all he knows, I'm talking about Exploding Snap."

"Exploding Snap?" Ali runs into the kitchen. "Are we playing after breakfast?"

"Isn't it lunchtime by now?" I ask. "And sure. We can do that. Just don't let your dad win this time."

"I don't _let _him win, he's just so good at it," Ali says, glowering at Harry. Harry shrugs, a smug look on his face.

"Again," says Harry, "years of practice."

Within minutes, we sit down to eat, Ali smacking his lips and enthusiastically complimenting our cooking skills throughout the meal.

"Can you do shapes next time, Dad?" he asks Harry. "Dragons, maybe?"

"Sounds complicated. Might need your help with that. Can't we start with wands or something?"

"Brooms?" I suggest.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry says. "So, what should we do today? After Exploding Snap, that is."

"Let's go to the wonky old film shop," says Ali. "I want to watch another one of those films you like." Ali absolutely refuses to watch children's films, so we've ended up re-watching a lot of our favorites. He especially loves _Some Like it Hot_, which isn't so bad to watch over and over. We laugh at the jokes that still go over his head, bless him, and he giggles endlessly at the idea of men in women's clothing.

"We could do that," I say. "And we could go somewhere for dinner before that. And I think there was talk of going to the Owlery?"

Ali practically shrieks, "Am I going to get an owl? Please, Dad?"

Harry shrugs and smiles. "Sounds like your father approves."

"I just said we were going. I didn't say anything about an owl."

"We can't go and _not _get an owl," Ali argues.

"I'm teasing, Ali. Sure, we can go over there in a little while. How about a game first?"

Ali runs off to get Exploding Snap and Harry shakes his head at me.

"All over us," he says.

"Yeah," I agree. "And I love it. And so do you."

"I know. Have I told you enough lately that I love you?"

"Probably. But you can do it again anyway."

"Well, I love you, Mr. Potter."

"And I love you, too, Mr. Potter."

"Well, now that that's settled, I'm about to kick your ass. Our son's, too."

"Fine by me," I say and settle in for an afternoon with my two favorite people.


	16. Perfect

"Feels a bit strange, doesn't it?" Nev asks me. We're standing on platform 9 and three quarters, keeping an eye on Ali as he runs from Teddy to Hugo and back to us.

"Very," I agree. "It's been, what, 13 years?"

"14, I think." Neville takes Ali by the shoulder before he can run off again. "You ready to go?"

Ali nods.

"Nervous?"

"A bit."

"You're going to be fine," I say, putting a hand on his other shoulder. I see a mother and father and their daughter out of the corner of my eye. Turning to look at them, they smile and I smile back. Family, I suppose, is a beautiful thing, one I'm still coming to understand and appreciate. And that we can be just like them, well, it's almost too good to believe. But as I feel the warmth under my shoulder and see my husband standing next to me, I know it's real, and it's not going to go away.

"What if I'm not in the same house as Teddy or Hugo?" Ali asks, sounding worried. Hugo's a Ravenclaw and Teddy's in Gryffindor. We've had Ali pegged as one or the other for years.

"You'll still be able to make friends," I say. "You're the most brilliant boy in the world. How couldn't you?"

Ali grins. I lean down to kiss him on the top of the head, grateful that he's not old enough to be embarrassed yet. He hugs me and then turns to Nev, allowing his dad to kiss him on the cheek and wrap him up in a tight hug.

"Well, bye," says Ali. "I love you both."

"Love you, too," we echo. With that, he pulls along his trunk and hops onto the train. Hugo and Teddy trail behind him, tossing a Bludger from their practice Quidditch set back and forth. I see Ali catch it as he disappears into the Hogwarts Express.

"We won't be seeing him again till the holidays," says Neville, sounding wistful. I put my arm around his shoulder and squeeze.

"You know you'll be able to visit him when you go and help out Elena," I say. "And I'm sure we'll be able to steal him away for lunch once in a while." I lean his head against my shoulder. "And won't it be nice to be bachelors again for a few months?"

"We get our Saturdays back," he says, smiling. "That is, unless you get called in."

"Kingsley agreed to no Saturdays after Ali was in school."

"Of course you asked for that."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

I'm back at the Ministry now under a few conditions. One, I only work half time, and two, when I do work, I'm in the field or researching, not filling out forms at the worn out desk in my stuffy office. That's my assistant's job now. Kingsley seemed so pleased with my forthrightness that he allowed me these concessions. It helps, I think, that he's grown so fond of Ali, just as everyone does. He's a great kid, clever and funny and full of new ideas that'll serve him well at Hogwarts.

Neville's not working any traditional job. Instead, he spends his time in his own home office, studying new developments in herbology and peer reviewing pieces for _The English Herbological Journal_, a publication he founded three years ago. He's perfectly content now with what he does, even more so than when he was teaching, and I'm still amazed at how happy we both are.

We walk together, Nev's arm around my waist, mine still around his shoulders.

"Way to snag a Ministry car, by the way," he says as we get in a hoity toity Muggle saloon.

"Favor from Mr. Weasley. I taught him how to use a toaster."

Neville laughs, and we drive in companionable silence for a few minutes before he says, "I don't have anything left to review today."

"And I'm off for the afternoon. Shall we make it a Saturday?"

Nev grins broadly. "Pancakes and lovemaking and the film shop?"

"Perfect," I say. "Do I get my pick today?"

"As long as it's not _The Prestige _again," says Neville. "I think we've seen that about three thousand times now."

"I was thinking we could sneak in a children's film since our son's not around."

"Great idea. That or porn."

I take my hand off the wheel to swat at his arm, and he laughs like he's 12 and just discovered sex jokes. He grabs my hand and kisses my fingers.

"Don't distract me now," I say. "We're only five minutes from home."

"Really? I thought we were already there."

I pause and pull up to the stoplight before Grimmauld Place, quickly leaning over to brush my lips against Nev's. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," I say. "We are. We really are."

"And I don't think either of us is leaving."

"Never."

"And I know that some things have to last forever."

"They have to."

"And one of them's me and you and Ali."

"It is."

"And I love you. I love you as much as I did when I was 15, and when I was 25, and maybe even more now than I did then."

I turn into our drive and park the car, getting out and opening Nev's door. In the garage, I lean in—OK, up—to kiss him, and keep kissing him, for a minute or two. "I think I love you a little bit more every day. I love your shyness, and I love your stubble, and I love the way you chew on the tip of your quill when you're tearing apart an essay from a new writer."

"I love your boldness, and I love your wrinkles around your mouth from laughing, and I love the way you tap your foot when you're waiting to do something you really want to do."

"I guess that covers everything, doesn't it?"

"Just about. Oh, one more thing. I love the way you race me up to the bedroom when you want me so badly you can't take the waiting anymore."

"So you mean like right now?" I exaggeratedly stretch out, touching my toes and jogging in place. "Well, hurry up, then, or I'll just take you on the stairs."

He laughs. "That doesn't sound too bad, really."

"But the bed is so soft," I insist, pulling him to me and kissing him breathless.

"Alright, alright," says Nev. "I'll race you."

"I'll win."

"You always do."

"And you love it."

"Can't help it. It's you doing it."

"Such a ponce," I say with a sigh, laughing my way up the stairs at Neville's attempted tackles and kisses and the sheer joy of it all, this man, this life, this world I now find myself in. I'm happier than I've ever been, and it's only going to get better from here. I look at Nev, who's won the race for once, and we lie down together, pushing hair out of each other's faces and stealing kisses and reveling in each other, warmth and happiness and love, the kind that lasts forever, without question, without doubt, and without end.


	17. Author's Note and Playlist

Author's note:

This is the most fun I've ever had writing a fan fiction piece. I hope you enjoyed it a quarter as much as I did. Because I didn't want it to end, I started a sequel. It's called "All That Glitters," and you'll find it here on my FF account. Note: "All That Glitters" is not quite so happy as this, but there is certainly plenty of fluff to be found. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I greatly appreciate it.

-fennecfawkes, 16 January 2012

These were the songs and shows that spurred me on while writing this story:

Sanders Bohlke, "The Weight of Us"

Balthrop, Alabama, "Love to Love You"

Magnetic Fields, "The Book of Love"

The Hold Steady, "Stay Positive"

U2, "All I Want is You"

Ben Folds and Regina Spektor, "You Don't Know Me"

Coldplay, "Til Kingdom Come"

Mika, "We Are Golden"

Simon & Garfunkel, "The Boxer"

Lagwagon, "May 16"

Greg Laswell, "Sweet Dream"

The Free Design, "Love You"

The _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying _company, "Brotherhood of Man"

Noah and the Whale, "5 Years Time"

Season one of _The Vampire Diaries_

_Top Gear _reruns

And, perhaps shamefully, Katy Perry, "Not Like the Movies"


End file.
